Your lot and my lot
by kouw
Summary: War is raging on not-too-distant shores, but all is calm in Pepperinge Eye. Eglantine and the children miss Emelius who is in the Army, but they don't know where. The children are starting to notice Miss Price is getting rather depressed. Will finding the Professor help rebuilding a home? A family?
1. Missing you

**A/N: **Multi-chapter fic, child friendly for now, but you never know what happens when grown ups find each other after one has been in the Army during a war and the other has been waiting for him to come home. Stuff might happen, anyone knows if there has been a conclusion reached about Emelius' last name, please let me know. For now I've given him an extra 'e', but that could easily be fixed.

All commentary and reviews are very much appreciated, so please don't hesitate.

* * *

**Missing you**

The worst thing about it is that she has no idea if he will be back.

He left the house in his uniform, kissed her (she could still feel it tingle on her cheek sometimes, when she concentrated very hard), threw his duffel over his shoulder and marched to the station.

Trains wait for no man.

It's the women who do the waiting, she thinks bitterly. The mothers, the wives, daughters. She is none of these. She doesn't know what she is. Not quite.

Letters come sporadically. There are no stamps from where he might be, only the different inks from the army postage service. Words that seem dry and distant. Detached. Strangely cheerful. Artificially happy. She does not know where he is, not what he might be doing. His postscripts are for the children - often longer than his actual letter to her. He asks after school, friends, encourages them for tests that have already been taken.

He never says when he might be coming back.

* * *

He is in an office in London and he cannot tell her. He is writing reports, thinking up schemes, doing some 'out of the box' thinking with old pals from school. The end of the war is nowhere in sight. The Ministry of Food is sending out pamphlets and training motherly looking women to teach other women how to cook something nourishing from the rations that are being given out.

He writes his letters to Eglantine and the children. He knows they are being read by the censors, so he doesn't bother to close the envelope. Best to remain inconspicuous. Keep flying under the radar. Keeping his head down at all times, keeping the landlady of his small room happy by paying his rent promptly, by not bringing in his coworkers.

He misses her. Her smile, her wittiness, her stubborness. He misses the children and their cheer and he misses how they had been in that big house by the sea together.

Something to go back to, when all of this is over.

* * *

Autumn by the sea is seeing things go raw and sparse. The waves crashing upon the beach and against the chalk, the wind blowing around the house. Paul once cried out for his mother, she had heard Carrie rush into the room, to comfort him.

She had not known what to do in the morning: ask after it or pretend she had not heard, but the children came to her, telling her that the sound of the shutters scared them.

They had taken them down. In the attic she found the old drapes, she had hung them since they needed them for blacking out the light.

Her house was getting fuller by the day it seemed. With her own things, some of Emelius' that had somehow ended up there. The children and the belongings they gathered. There were days the house seemed filled with limbs and voices and she made endless cups of tea. There the childrens' friends at the dinner table taking small portions of what she had cooked, in fear of overstepping boundaries - not having brought rations books or stamps.

She always took their plates and piled on the food.

She could make do with less.

* * *

He's being invited to have dinner with the Major and he brings his ration books and a bottle of wine - nobody asks where he got it from and he won't tell. By now they know that Captain Browne is good at getting things that are hard to get a hold of. Nylons. Chocolate.

Bacon.

He's a welcome guest since he can be witty, has been known to have a go at the old piano, is (almost accidentally) one of the good ol' boys and charming with the ladies. He never outstays his welcome, doesn't throw himself upon the food.

He doesn't ask awkward questions, but he does know where to find the best clubs in town and gets them in - often leaving within fifteen minutes himself. He seems lonely though he obviously knows his way around and he is aware of it.

He is indeed lonely.

* * *

They see it in her face and they worry. Their lives have changed so much over the past few years - being bombed in London, losing their parents. Flying around on a bed. Charlie sometimes still feels his nose twitch like a rabbit.

He won't admit it, of course.

He won't admit that he missed Professor Browne - even if he had been with them for such a short while. His letters are always so upbeat. Cheerful even. This comforts him in a way, but he just wishes he could just _talk_ to him. There are things he cannot discuss with Miss Price.

Especially not since he can easily see how much she misses Emelius as well.

He has a plan and he needs his little brother for it and to get to him, he needs his sister. They need to fix all of this together, because things will be falling to pieces before long and he can't be having that.

He's already lost his home once.


	2. Letters and plans

**A/N:** A big thanks to my beta 'onmyside' and to anyone who may be reading this. Commentary, reviews and such are all very much appreciated and encouraged, so don't hesitate!

* * *

"It still sparkles when I touch it." Paul said and he pressed his finger against the brass bedknob. Pink and purple sparks sizzled around his hand.

"So… what do you think?" Charlie asked, looking at his little brother seriously.

"It's too dangerous, Charlie, we don't know what the bed will do without Miss Price coming along!" Carrie worried and Paul cocked his head to the side, contemplating this.

"But it's his. Not Miss Price's. All her things are gone and she's not done a spell since the Krauts took off."

"But what if something goes wrong? We don't know where we might end up? What if…" Carrie's lip trembled.

"What if? What?" Paul asked.

"What if Professor Browne is fighting somewhere and we end up between bombs and such?"

The children thought about this frightening possibility for a few moments.

"Professor Browne is not really good at fighting, though, is he? I mean…" Charlie shrugged.

Paul and Carrie nodded.

"Maybe he doesn't really fight, perhaps he does something different. And if we do end up between bombing and shelling, we'll just twist the knob and tell the bed to take us home."

"My knob!" Paul piped up.

* * *

"Dear Emelius,

Thank you for your lovely letter."

Eglantine tapped the back of her pen on the desk and sighed. She was running out of things to say. She had already told him about the storms blowing away the leaves from the trees, Carrie's outstanding grades, Paul's little bicycle accident, Charles helping in Mrs Hobday's shop on Saturday afternoons.

There were no adventures, no new spells, no research. No goal she was trying to reach. Just the mundane, day to day life in which she cared for the children, cooked, cleaned, read, listened to the radio. She would go into the village to get the shopping in, talk to people (who were a lot kinder to her these days - even if they still looked at her motorcycle with a wary eye) and tried to avoid the Reverend. He was persistent as ever.

She could not think of a single funny story to share with Emelius and she daren't pour her heart out - that she missed him so much that at night when all was quiet - only the bashing of the waves on the shore could be heard - she could only think of him and her heart ached.

Their time together had been short and for at least half of it she had been rather annoyed with him, the way he had tried to charm her and his laissez-faire attitude. But things had changed after finding the star or Astoroth.

He had stood by her side, had helped her find a way to make the spell work and he had put himself in danger to find her - turning himself into a bunny and running to her. He had a gentle side, a layer underneath the quips and storytelling and bravado that was honest and good.

She had fallen in love with that layer. She knew she would never be a good witch when her poisoned dragon's liver arrived and she had known she had fallen for him when he had juggled those apples and had stood on Cosmic Creeper's tail.

Things changed between them. Mrs Hobday showing up at the door to tell them there was a different place for the children and Paul saying he had a daddy now - it had made them both feel so awkward. Their relationship (if there was any) had escalated so quickly according to the children. After commanding her small army of magical soldiers, falling from her broom into Emelius' arms, she had come to the conclusion Paul might have been right. She picked up her pen again and started writing.

"Dear Emelius,

Thank you for your lovely letter. We all look forward to them and…

* * *

… they never disappoint.

We miss you.

We hope you'll be home for Christmas to help us celebrate. According to Charles you'd be the only one tall enough to crown the tree with the topper and Carrie has been working on writing a Christmas story. Paul is certain Father Christmas will come to bring him presents.

I think you know what my Christmas wish is.

I continue to hope the war will be over soon, and we'll all be reunited. Until then, or when you get a pass* please stay safe.

Always yours,

Eglantine "

He sighed deeply.

The war would not be over soon, not as it looked now and getting a pass seemed almost impossible, even if he knew all the right people. Those with families, with children or elderly parents, ailing relatives, came first. His file was void of these. He had no living parents, no relatives he knew of. He had never been married, had no children.

His home (his heart had jumped when he had read that in the letter - it was uncommonly emotional) was overseeing the sea and was filled with a gorgeous, feisty, clever strawberry-blonde and three cheeky monkeys of children he had not fathered nor had she mothered them and together they could make a go of it. If they'd be given the chance.

London was starting to get ready for the holidays, people talked about setting up trees, getting ornaments out of basements and attics. There are men worrying about rations and about how they'll be able to provide their families with anything resembling a Christmas feast. [These two world coexist in war time and it feels strange]

He is wondering how he can make certain Paul won't have to be disappointed in Father Christmas. He doesn't know much about seven year old boys. What they like, what they don't. What is an appropriate gift for a boy who is nothing to you but could be something of a son. He's gone around the shops a few times, to look. He saw other men with the same glazed over look leaving without a single thing.

He doesn't want to write Eglantine about it. He has bought her something too and he is rather afraid it's too much, but then again it might not be enough. They are not on the firmest ground and he is worried she might see it as too little, too small, but he had not wanted to send her anything bigger when he might not be there when she rips off the wrapping paper.

If only he could be.

He misses them.

* * *

*weekend pass(es): short time off duty for people involved in the war


	3. Plan into action

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your reviews, you have no idea how happy it makes me to see you reading this little adventure.

* * *

She checked the clock. Half past seven. Time to get things started for the day. She walked into the kitchen, pulled out a loaf of bread and started slicing. She put the kettle on, opened the door for Cosmic Creepers. The house was oddly quiet.

Normally Eglantine was greeted in the morning by Paul who would be on the sofa reading his book or drawing at the kitchen table, waiting for her to fix him some breakfast. Now emptiness had greeted her. She had not heard Carrie's distinct voice singing in the bathroom or Charles' grumbling either.

She called to the children to hurry up.

When there was still no sign nor sound of them, she hurried upstairs and knocked on the boys' bedroom door.

"Charles? Paul? Wake up boys, you'll be late for school!"

Nothing. She tentatively opened the door and found the room was empty. No sign of either child.

Or the bed.

Eglantine's breath hitched in her chest and she ran to Carrie's room, knocked and opened the door without waiting for an answer. The room was empty. There was a note on Carrie's desk (the girl liked to do her homework on her own, in silence) and she picked it up, fumbling to find her spectacles.

"Dear Aunt Eglantine*,

Don't worry about us, we've gone to find Professor Browne. We'll be back soon.

Paul, Charles and Carrie"

Eglantine sank down on the chair, lowering the letter in her lap, pulling her glasses off her nose.

* * *

"Cor, I'm cold!" Paul exclaimed.

"Here." Carrie tugged at the bedspread and wrapped it around Paul. She was wearing her thickest jumper under her coat and one of Miss Price' shawls over her hair. Charlie was pretending he wasn't freezing, though Carrie could see his cheeks were getting paler by the minute.

"Do you think it will be very far?" Paul asked and Carrie shrugged.

"I dunno." She said and looked at Charlie, who also shrugged.

"Seems the bed is not flying as fast as it used to." Charlie said after a few moments' silence.

"Might be because Aunt Eglantine is not with us. Might be missing her magic." Carrie contemplated and the other two nodded.

"Or it's because we are getting close!" Charlie yelled as he pointed at a familiar skyline.

Saint Paul's Cathedral, the Big Ben and Houses of Parliament all popped up in the orange hues of dawn. The bed slowed down even more and landed under an arch.

"Do you think we should disguise it?" Carrie asked her brothers.

"Nah. Who'll want a bed anyway?" Charlie responded with admirable nonchalance. His answer was rendered useless when some passers-by walked right by the bed without seeing it.

"We must be close to Professor Browne then." Paul said and he started walking away.

"Paul! Wait up!" The others called after him and started running.

Paul was nowhere in sight.

* * *

He couldn't find his umbrella and somehow the snap of his briefcase just wouldn't hold and he was starting to run late and all in all he just wished he could either remain in bed or make his way to Pepperinge Eye - where he'd feel at ease.

He grabbed an apple from the counter (having contacts was proving to be very beneficial to his health) and ran down the stairs, into the street, where he bumped into two children who were rather familiar to him. He shook his head a couple of times after being told 'Oi watch it!' and 'Mind where you're going, guv!' and managed to croak out their names.

"Carrie? Charlie?"

The children looked up.

"Professor Browne!" Especially Carrie looked very relieved to see him. He put down his briefcase and opened his arms to her where he gently embraced her and then shook hands with Charlie, who looked like he particularly enjoyed being treated as a grown up. Emelius proceeded to quickly pick up his briefcase - if that ever got away from him, all hell would break loose - and looked around.

"Paul and Eglantine not with you?"

"No… well, yes, but..." Carrie started and he found the girl was close to tears. Charlie jumped in.

"She doesn't know we've come to look for you and Paul was with us on the bed, but he wandered off and we can't find him."

Emelius took a deep breath.

"This is not good."

"Nah, not really." Charlie admitted.

"Losing Paul while not telling Eglantine you've run off. I ought to be very cross with you, but there's no time and I am very happy to see the two of you." He smiled at the pair. "We've to find your brother and telephone Eglantine that you two are safe."

He looked around. While he was happy to see the children, he also had a job to do and he did not really have time to be traipsing all over London to find a young boy who had taken it upon himself to go on an adventure.

"Lets go back to the flat and let Eglantine know you are here, then I'll have to get a day off - which is not going to be easy and then we'll have to inform the police that Paul has gone missing."

Carrie looked at him gratefully.

"Thank you, Professor."

He bend over and kissed her on the crown of her head.

"Alright. Lets get going, no moment to waste!"

* * *

* I've debated what the children would call Miss Eglantine Price and I have decided on 'Aunt Eglantine' based on opinions of fellow writers I respect, some history, a bit of internet research and my personal headcanon. I know not everyone will agree with me and are of the opinion that the children would call her 'Miss Price' still. I hope that you will still enjoy the fic even though I made this other choice.


	4. Lost and found

"Charlie! Carrie! Where are you?" Paul called out to his brother and sister, but no answer came. He kept on walking the unfamiliar streets, hoping to find something or someone he recognised. The streets were narrow and people were rushing past him. He heard the bells of Big Ben toil eight. His stomach grumbled.

While he had looked forward to going on an adventure on the bed again, he did not really like being on his own like this. He had never been afraid to be on his own while he had lived in London, but London was big and he did not know where he was. To be with his siblings was different from being alone. When he was little^, he had played outside the door with his friends in the streets, but his mother had always been close. Or a neighbour. These days Aunt Eglantine was making sure he came home in time, she kept his stomach full and his clothes clean and sent him off to school.

He looked around.

There was a young woman leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Paul walked up to her and plainly asked:

"Have you seen my brother or sister?"

"Nah." She shrugged. "Wot they look like, love?"

Her accent sounded familiar. The roughness, the melody, so different from Aunt Eglantine's sounded like happy times he had had with his mum. A tear welled up in his eyes.

"Charlie is about as tall as you and he has dark hair and he is wearing long trousers and he has a brown jumper and Carrie has a long plait and she is wearing her new shoes."

The young woman laughed.

"Sorry, love, but no. You best run 'ome to yer Ma."

Paul swallowed away the tears that threatened to fall and walked on.

* * *

"Emelius?" Eglantine's voice sounded incredulous and happy.

"The one and only. As far as I know, of course."

"Oh..." She was obviously dumbfounded and his own heart was doing spectacular somersaults at hearing her.

"Not a social call, I'm afraid my dear. I'm calling to tell you..."

"That the children are with you." She plunged in. He chuckled.

"Yes, well, Carrie and Charles are, but Paul seems to have wandered off." He kept his voice as casual as possible, but knowing Eglantine, he was bracing himself for her answer.

"Wandered off?" Her voice was dangerously calm.

"Probably into Seven Dials*."

Silence on the other side of the line.

"He'll be fine. He's a dapper lad."

"I'm coming over. It will take a while to get on the train to London and then to arrive, but I'm coming now."

"Wait!" He managed to shout so she wouldn't hang up on him. "You could use a spell maybe?"

"A spell?" She whispered.

He told her the words and the movement**.

"What if it doesn't work? Or halfway works? Or I'll find my arms are in London but my legs are still here?"

"Won't happen." He spoke with confidence. "You are a very powerful witch. I have every faith in you."

Charlie and Carrie nodded enthusiastically in the background and Carrie called 'sorry!' towards the phone.

"I'll try."

"We'll see you shortly, then."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye; my dearest." He replied awkwardly.

* * *

Eglantine stared at the words she had jotted down. Deliberation seemed key and somehow it didn't seem very difficult to find that. Paul was missing and it was enough to want to find him as soon as possible, keeping him out of harms way and her worry for him fueled her with intention.

She put on her coat and scarf and stepped into the drawing room. She pushed back the coffee table and took her place. Then gulping in a big breath, she moved and murmured the words.

She felt as if she was being squeezed from head to toe through a rather too tight rubber band and it knocked the air out of her. The squeezing stopped and she opened her eyes, which she had shut tightly due to the force of the spell. She stumbled a little but managed not to fall. She was just brushing some dust (and soot, unfortunately, must be the London air) off her coat when she heard a boy's voice call out her name:

"Aunt Eglantine!"

The boy ran straight into her arms and she enveloped him in a warm embrace, kissing his cheeks and head.

"Oh Paul! I was so worried about you."

He looked up with sparkling eyes. "I knew you were still a witch!"

* * *

^ Of course being seven is a lot bigger than being five - we are led to believe Paul is six in the movie and since a year has passed, he should be seven

* Thank you Wikipedia and Google Maps for pointing out to me where the War Office is, where the Cockney Rhyming slang originated and for showing me where Emelius might be living

** I know this is totally stolen from Harry Potter, but I find it quite hard to come up with spells and such myself, so best 'borrow' from someone who can. Right?


	5. Finding each other

"Do you think we'll find him?" Carrie asked worriedly to no-one in particular.

Emelius had taken the children to his flat, had called Eglantine and helped her with a spell he had once memorized - because he had believed in magic back then and he now knew it still existed and Eglantine would be able to work it without much trouble. He wondered where she'd end up: with him or with Paul.

"Yes." He rummaged around a drawer and pulled out a map of the city, folding it out, placing it on the table.

"We are now here." He pointed at the map. "This is where I work." He pointed again. "If the bed took you to me it should be between these two points because I had hardly stepped foot outside the door when I bumped into you two ruffians." He petted Carrie's head and winked at Charlie, letting them know he was only joking, trying to elevate the desperate atmosphere that had been building steadily since their arrival.

"We used to live around here." Charlie said and Emelius detected a trace of his former heavy accent, the Cockney Charlie had quickly shrugged off after having been made fun of in school.

"Where? Show me." He turned the map so Charlie could take a good look, but it was Carrie who immediately pointed at a small street off Earlham Street.

"Right. That narrows things down." Emelius found the stump of a pencil in his coat pocket and drew a circle around his flat, the War Office and Earlham Street.

"But he might have gotten in the wrong direction!" Carrie said.

"Yes. But he is a seven year old boy and all the other children are in school, or ought to be, so he'll have been noticed. Lets go."

* * *

"Why did you not wait for Charles and Carrie, Paul?" Eglantine asked after scanning her boy for injuries.

"I just wanted to find Professor Browne." Paul said plainly.

Eglantine sighed. "You ought to have gone to school. We don't know where Em.. the Professor is, he might be fighting at the front. What if the bed had brought you there?"

"We would have twisted the knob and gone home, we did think about that." Paul sounded a bit hurt and Eglantine smiled at him.

"Why did you want to find him so badly you couldn't wait anymore?" She took his hand and together they started walking in the direction Paul had come from.

"You were missing him so much and we were going to bring him home for you."

"Oh Paulâ€¦" She pulled the boy close to her. "That is very sweet, but also very..." She sighed.

"I don't think you thought about how worried I would be when I'd find you and your brother and sister and _the bed_ gone this morning."

Paul shook his head. "I'm sorry." He mumbled and hid his head in her coat.

They passed a young woman smoking a cigarette and flirting with a young soldier and she called over:

"I see you found yer Ma, love!"

Paul stuck up his thumb to her and Eglantine felt all warm and tingly and gave the girl a nod.

"Best get going." She managed to sound normal - she had no idea how she did it. "Where do you think the bed is?"

"I dunno, really." Paul responded and Eglantine corrected him gently: "_Don't know_, Paul.

"We best go and find the others then. Do you know where they might be?"

"No..."

Eglantine shook her head. "No. Me neither."

* * *

"Where is the bed, Charlie?" Emelius asked. He had raided his kitchen cabinets and found - besides another two apples - half a roll of biscuits and a few slices of white bread, which he quickly slathered with margarine* and put all of it in the paper bag the bread had come in. He handed it to Charlie.

They left the flat and made their way to the bed, which was still in place and Carrie ran around it in hopes of finding her brother.

"I don't think he'd be able to find it by himself." Charlie said and he looked rather forlorn.

"Come now. What do we always say? Use your resources. There's three of us and we know Paul. He is a strapping lad and he is not shy. He'll have asked around for the pair of you. So that's what we'll do. Come on. If you went this way, he can only have gone in there so come on."

He led the way and asked the children why they had taken off on the bed while he kept looking left and right for a little blonde boy.

"She misses you dreadfully." Carrie said.

"We decided to come and get you." Charlie added.

"But... I mean..." Emelius was speechless. "What do you mean she misses me?"

"Aunt Eglantine. She hardly speaks of you, but she waits for the mailman every day and sometimes she mentions you. She looks very sad when we talk about you." Carried spoke candidly.

"I miss her too. I miss all of you." Emelius sighed.

They were reaching the center of Seven Dials.

"Professor!" Suddenly there was a warm hand in his and a child wrapping himself around him. "Oh my boyâ€¦" He whispered before cuddling the young boy to him.

When he looked up, he found Eglantine's smile was radiant as she stepped closer.

"Hello, Professor Browne." She said and he let go of Paul after a last ruffle through his hair.

"Hello, Miss Price."

They stood across from each other and he could see how she was worrying her bottom lip and tears were welling up in her eyes and before he knew it, his arms were full of Eglantine and he pressed her to his chest.

* * *

The children stood looking how Miss Price and the Professor embraced each other and how they found each other in a kiss that made Carrie blush, Charlie look away and Paul smile widely. He may have gotten lost, but at least he had made sure the Professor and Aunt Eglantine had found each other while searching for him.

He was quite pleased with himself.

Charlie swatted him upside the head and Carrie looked furious, but he didn't mind much. Soon they would all be travelling on the bed.

Going home.

* * *

* Butter shortages meant margarine was used as a substitute, but even that was getting scarce and was heavily rationed. But then again - it's Emelius, he'll rustle up any old thing he needs, my shady knight in armour


	6. Going home

Carrie was happily biting into an apple and smiled at her brothers.

"Do you think we'll be going home soon?" She asked and settled against the brass bars of the bed.

"Hope so, I'm supposed to play footie this afternoon." Charlie said, checking his watch. It was getting on ten.

"Mister Green is going to be wondering where we were." Carrie worried suddenly.

"Oh, they'll come up with an excuse why we weren't in school this morning." Charlie said, easily dismissing Carrie's concerns.

"I just want to go home." Paul said and yawned. He flopped back on the bed and started to curl up. He bit into a slice of bread, chewing slowly.

Charlie kept watching the Professor and Aunt Eglantine who were speaking in hushed tones. He could see little smiles cross Aunt Eglantine's face and they were holding hands as well.

"Be patient." He said and pulled his feet up.

"Charlie! Don't put your di'ty feet on the bed!" Carrie admonished and pushed him off, making him fall on the pavement and he got up, looking angry.

"What'd'y'do that for!" He shouted, his Cockney accent taking over in full.

Carrie stood up and crossed her arms - she was almost as tall as he was now and not scared at all.

"Your shoes are di'ty, and it's me an' Aunt Eglantine havin' to do the washin' so I thank you to keep yer feet off."

Before Charlie could answer though, the Professor popped up beside him.

"Anything wrong?" HIs eyebrows arched, he sounded uncharacteristically stern.

"No... sorry…" Both children hung their heads and Paul scrambled up from his lying position on the bed.

"Can we go home now?"

* * *

Eglantine sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Paul into her lap. The others sat down beside her, Emelius next to Charlie.

"You know that Em... Professor Browne is in the Army and you know how hard it is for any soldier to come home. We'll just have to be patient."

Paul scrunched his face up angrily. "But I want him to come home with us."

"Yes. I understand."

She did understand. It was heaven to have him close, to hear his voice, to feel his lips gently touch the skin of her cheek, her lips, to have his hand closed around hers.

"Why can't he come with us, he's not fighting, he is here in London." Carrie said, her voice ragged with tears.

"He is doing very important work. He may not be wearing a uniform, but he is essential to the war effort." She swallowed hard.

"Can't 'e just do it from 'ome, then?" Charlie sounded a bit rough still.

"No." Emelius said. "I wish I could. I'd rather be with you in your warm cozy house, helping you all decorate the tree for Christmas, sharing your cocoa, maybe even sing a carol or two, but I can't. My work is here and I report to someone who is here too."

"You can take our bed." Paul offered and Eglantine was touched.

"Oh, thank you, my darling." She said and he turned to her.

"You've never called me that before." He informed her.

"Sorry." Eglantine apologised, not wanting to embarrass the boy, or somehow taint the memory of his mother - who must have used such terms of endearment while speaking to her children.

"It's alright. It's nice." Paul contentedly snuggled against her and she smoothed his hair over his temple.

"So if 'e can 'ave the bed," Charlie started, making his customary gesture with his thumb and Emelius shook his head while Eglantine corrected his language.

"No, I have to be here. And I can't live in your house, I'd have to find rooms in the village."

* * *

"Why can't you just live with us?" Carrie asked timidly. She was crying and he hated it. Her tears when he had left them after juggling the apples, after Mrs Hobday had come to tell them there was a new place for the children, had haunted him during his walk to the station as much as Eglantine's face. He had dreamt of staying with them and he had left anyway.

Then there was the small battle they had fought, Eglantine, the children, the museum pieces, him and he had made the decision to do the right thing: he had enlisted, gone to basic training and then had been handpicked to work at the War Office.

The children were right. He was not really a soldier, but he had a rank - a not-too-shoddy one either and he was, in his heart, a gentleman. He could not live under Eglantine's roof. Not without... he coughed.

What a thing to think on a weekday morning around elevenses.

"Because I am needed here." He answered, letting it be a half truth.

"You are needed with us." Paul spoke again and Eglantine hugged him even closer to him. She didn't look up, but he noticed a tear or two dropping into the child's hair as she was bent over him.

"I know." He stood up from the bed, pacing up and down a few times.

"Look, I know it's hard and I don't like it either, but I am working so the war will be over soon and then we can all be together."

Eglantine looked up.

"If you want." He said directly to her and his heart hammered painfully in his chest.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. He swallowed hard and nodded too.

* * *

Emelius' chuckle sounded unnatural and she could see his eyes gleaming. She gave Paul a last little squeeze, pulled back the bedspread and told the children to hop in.

"Time to go home." She said with forced cheer. She watched the children get in the bed reluctantly, Charles* grumbling, Carrie crying, Paul with a trembling bottom lip. Eglantine turned to Emelius and reached for his hand.

"We'll miss you. Please be safe." She said. She did not know what he was doing here in London and she did not know if he would remain there. All she knew was that she wished she could take him with her. Home.

At least he had asked her if they could be together after the war. It was an understanding and it was all she could ask for. The rest would come in good time.

He leaned in and kissed her again. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. When they let go, she could not help but swear:

"I hate this bloody war!"

He tilted her chin with his finger, looking deep in her eyes.

"Without the war we would never have met, my dear. I'll come back as soon as I can. The war won't last forever." With those words he escorted her back to the bed and made sure everyone was settled.

"Goodbye, all of you." He said, taking off his head, waving it a few times.

"Bye, Professor." The children said, their voices sad.

"It will all be alright, you'll see." He promised. She could see how it pained him to say the words, words he could not know if they were true.

"The knob, Paul." Eglantine said, her voice as stern as if she was still not used to having to look after three children. Emotion, she reckoned. Nerves.

They waved to Emelius as the bed started to move. When he was no longer in sight, she pulled both Carrie and Paul closer to her sides and put her hand on Charles' arm. When they landed in the boys' bedroom, Cosmic Creepers hissed from the top of the armoire.

* * *

* Only Eglantine calls Charlie 'Charles' - I think it's partly because she wants him to feel respected and almost grown up and partly because this way she can show him she is not trying to be his mother - who would have called him 'Charlie' no doubt


	7. Christmas Eve (epilogue)

Charles was singing terribly off key and both Carrie and Paul were laughing heartily at their older brother's antics. Even Eglantine had to crack a smile over the boy's behaviour. In recent days it had become clear that Emelius would not be joining them for Christmas, as he had warned them. But hope had still fluttered in her chest and she - and the children - had still been disappointed. She had tried to tell herself she was lucky to have seen him in London just a few weeks prior and that they had spoken on the phone twice since then.

It was more than most military wives could boast about.

Now it was the afternoon of Christmas Eve and they were decorating the tree, eating cookies she and Carrie had concocted (Eglantine hoped that rationing would be a blessed memory sooner rather than later*) and before long they'd be changing and going to church. Eglantine would be joining the congregation with the children to celebrate Christmas and she was looking forward to it. The singing, the sermon.

She hoped it would give her some comfort for the days to come.

Of course she was well aware she had a lot to be thankful for - her three charges were healthy and moderately happy (she did have her run-ins with Charles and even with Carrie from time to time and Paul was still suffering nightmares), she was as happy as was possible and Emelius was still in London, safely out of harm's way.

Or so she chose to believe.

She picked up her cup of cocoa and took another sip. If she had not had the children here, she would have added a drop of brandy. Or two.

Paul was now doing a silly little jig which made her laugh out loud and Carrie looked relieved to see it.

"Do you think Father Christmas will come tonight?" Paul asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"I don't know Paul. With the war on and him having to look after children who are worse off than you, he might pass us by." Eglantine answered, thinking how she had wrapped presents for all three children the evening before while they were sleeping.

"But..." He sucked in his bottom lip to keep from crying.

"On the other hand: he is magical. We all know how strong magic can be. He might just pop by." She smiled. "We'll have to wait and see. But now you all drink the last of your cocoa and we'll have something to eat. We're going to church after supper, so you all wash your hands and faces."

"Awh..." Paul and Charles grumbled.

"No complaining, please. You will wash or there will be no supper. Understood?"

* * *

Carrie was joyfully singing along with the choir and Charlie was sneaking peeks at one of the girls in the pew on the other side of the isle and Aunt Eglantine was also singing, her hands pressed together so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Paul had counted all the orange windows and all the green ones. He had eaten his way through a bag of peppermints and he was now tapping his shoes together on the rhythm of the carol. Which was very slow. He was very glad service was nearly over. He was very bored and he wanted to go home, to bed, so he could maybe hear Father Christmas coming and putting his presents in his stocking or under the tree.

He had tried to be a good boy, especially after they had run off to find the Professor, but it wasn't always easy with Charlie for a brother and having friends at school who were always up for an adventure. He often thought about how they had gone to Namoombu and the Professor had played referee and he often thought about the way he had hopped about Portobello Road.

Charlie had told him he should write Father Christmas and Carrie had agreed, telling him she had done it herself, so he had been working on it every morning before breakfast. He had asked Aunt Eglantine to help him with difficult words and she had spelled them out while buttering his toast and pouring tea. He was very glad he had asked her to post it. Now at least Father Christmas knew what he wanted.

* * *

He was cold and he had been jangled around in the second class coach for hours. The train had left from Waterloo in the relative daylight, but most of his travel had been conducted in the train. There had been few lights on, not enough to read his book at least. He was tired, having worked all through the night and the jostling was jarring his nerves. He hoped his presents had survived as he picked up his suitcase and the bag containing some wrapped gifts.

From Father Christmas to the children.

_From Emelius to Eglantine_

When he arrived at that small station where he had once seen a vision of Eglantine, he checked the clock in the station's waiting room. He'd be there in about half an hour if he walked briskly. If he was lucky enough to avoid running into anyone. He should be safe though - most people would still be in church on the other side of the village. He would be able to sneak in, maybe get a kettle going, plate up the biscuits he had managed to procure and warm through.

* * *

When they open the door, the lights are on** and for a moment Eglantine is worried they may have been robbed, but it's warm and she is certain she had killed the fire before they went into the village. She doubts very much robbers will have made themselves a fire. She takes off her hat and coat and helps Paul with his boots while the others peel off their coats and scarves.

Paul pushes open the door to the living room and he shouts:

"Father Christmas has gotten my letter! He got my letter! Look! Charlie! Aunt Eglantine! Carrie! Father Christmas came early!"

The boy is jumping up and down and pointing at the sofa, where the figure of Emelius Browne is curled up under a woolen plaid. He is fidgeting a bit and the children run to him, pouncing on him, making him sit up, startled and happy. He kisses Carrie on the cheek, ruffles Paul's hair, pats Charles on the shoulder and Paul keeps shouting 'Father Christmas read my letter' over and over until Eglantine scrapes her throat, still standing in the doorway, watching her noisy bunch celebrate their Christmas miracle.

"Good evening, Mr Browne." She then says, her voice soft but clear.

He gently pushes the children away, gets up and is with her in two strides, wrapping his arms around her and she is enveloped in tobacco, Old Spice and he kisses her.

She kisses him back.

When they withdraw - coaxed by the children's whooping and Charles' 'ehw' she sighs.

"Welcome home." She croaks.

"Merry Christmas." He says, looking around to the children who join them in a cuddle.

For the first time in a very long while, Christmas feels like something worth celebrating and the house feels like a home.

Then it strikes her:

A house is not a home until love is shared. It had been there between her and the children, but there always was something missing. A magical element.

And he is here now.

Home.

* * *

* Rationing would not be over for a very long time to come, unfortunately - even after the war, rationing was still something people had to deal with on a daily basis. The final rationing (of meat and bacon) ended in July 1954

** They would not have been able to see from the road due to the black out

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you everybody for reading this little story and for your kind comments and PMs! I hope you have had a very happy Christmas (or having a good winter season so far) and also that you will be following the Browne-Price-Rawlins' adventures this winter - for we all can use a bit of warmth when it's cold (in the Northern hemisphere, if you are Down Under, all I can say is: can you ever have too much fluff?)

THANK YOU EVERYBODY FOR READING, REVIEWING AND BEING GENERALLY AWESOME!


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